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Easy authentic Italian recipesSat, 17 Nov 2018 12:54:12 +0000en-UShourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=4.9.865131219blogspot/QaRzhttps://feedburner.google.comSubscribe with My Yahoo!Subscribe with NewsGatorSubscribe with My AOLSubscribe with BloglinesSubscribe with NetvibesSubscribe with GoogleSubscribe with PageflakesSubscribe with PlusmoSubscribe with The Free DictionarySubscribe with Bitty BrowserSubscribe with NewsAlloySubscribe with Live.comSubscribe with Excite MIXSubscribe with Attensa for OutlookSubscribe with WebwagSubscribe with Podcast ReadySubscribe with FlurrySubscribe with WikioSubscribe with Daily RotationBrasato ai funghi (Italian Pot Roast with Mushrooms)http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/QaRz/~3/e2gYbJ2BlB8/
https://memoriediangelina.com/2018/11/10/brasato-ai-funghi-italian-pot-roast-with-mushrooms/#commentsSat, 10 Nov 2018 12:44:37 +0000http://memoriediangelina.com/?p=11356While I’m not a vegetarian, meat doesn’t play a very central role ...

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]]>While I’m not a vegetarian, meat doesn’t play a very central role in my diet. Usually at least. There’s something about the late autumn and winter that brings out the inner carnivore. When the colder weather sets in, there’s nothing better than a good pot roast. We’ve featured brasato, the northern Italian style of pot roasting, before. But this version, brasato ai funghi, is made extra special by dried porcini mushrooms, which infuse it with their intensely woodsy flavor.

A brasato is not at all hard to make, although a proper one involves a quite few steps: marinating, larding, browning and braising. You can skip the first two if you’re in a hurry. But the pay off is well worth the effort. A well made brasato one of the most delicious, warming and comforting dishes imaginable, perfect for this time of year, especially served with mashed potatoes or polenta.

Directions

Marinating the Roast

If marinading your roast, place it in a bowl or container with the marinade ingredients and enough red wine to just cover. Leave overnight (and up to 24 hours) in the fridge. Turn the roast over once or twice as it marinates. Take the beef out of the fridge about an hour before you want to cook so it returns to room temperature. Pat dry.

Larding the Roast

If using a lean cut like eye round, it’s not a bad idea to lard the roast. Here’s an easy, ‘homestyle’ way to do it: Make slits all over the roast with a small parting knife and, with your fingers, insert small bits of pancetta into the slits. (See Notes for the professional method.)

Browning the Roast

Make a battuto by finely mincing the onion, carrot and celery together, either with a sharp knife or mezzaluna on a cutting board, or in a food processor, until the mixture has almost turned into a paste.

Melt a good knob of butter, along with a drizzle of vegetable oil, in a Dutch oven large enough to hold the roast, then add the battuto and gently sweat all the ingredients, with a pinch of salt, until they are very soft. Take care not to brown the aromatic vegetables—a few drops of water will help them prevent browning and help soften them as well.

Raise the heat and add the roast, browning it on all sides, again taking care not to burn the aromatics. Pour a ladleful of red wine (or the strained marinade if you’ve done that) over the roast and let it simmer, turning the roast now and then.

Braising the Roast

When the wine is almost evaporated, add the broth or water, along with the soaked mushrooms. (If you’re not making the mushroom garnish, you can add some or all of the soaking liquid, strained of any grit, as well.) Cover and let the roast braise over low heat until tender. (Times can vary, but 2-3 hours should be enough, although some recipes call for 4-6 hours of braising.) Adjust the heat so that the braising liquid simmers gently. Add more liquid (broth, water or mushroom water) if things get too dry.

Making the mushroom garnish

While the roast is braising, cut the fresh mushrooms into slices or quarters. Sauté them briskly in a good knob of butter and a drizzle of vegetable oil. They will exude their juices at first, once they have evaporated, you will hear them begin to sizzle. At that point, they will begin to brown. If you are using rather bland mushrooms, you can add some or all of the soaking liquid from the dried porcini to the mushrooms, just as they begin to sizzle, and let it evaporate.

Making the Sauce

When the beef is tender, remove it from the pot and let it rest for a few minutes. Meanwhile, check the braising liquid, which you will use as your sauce. It should be dark and intensely flavored, abundant but not too thin. Boil it down if it’s too thin, and add water if need be to thin it out. The battuto should have completely melted into the sauce; if not, you can purée the sauce with a hand blender. If you’re using the mushroom garnish, you can add it to the sauce if you like and let it simmer for a few minutes.

Serving the Roast

Slice the roast on a serving platter and add the mushroom garnish all around it. Nap with some of the sauce. Place the rest of the sauce in a sauce boat for those who want more. Brasato is wonderful accompanied by mashed potatoes or soft polenta.

Notes on Brasato di manzo ai funghi

A brasato is not at all difficult to make although as we’ve seen, it does involve quite a few steps. You can simplify things by skipping the initial marinating and larding, of course, and skipping the garnish if you like.

And you can speed things up considerably if you use a pressure cooker for the braising: 40 minutes at high pressure, followed by a natural release, which might take say 10-15 minutes, will get the job done. Use less liquid—about half the amount called for in the recipe—and you should be good to go. You may need to reduce the sauce a bit, as pressure cooking virtually eliminates evaporation. Or you could thicken the sauce with a bit of corn or potato starch. This quick method should mean your brasato can be finished in a bit over an hour.

Otherwise, a few tips to bear in mind:

Best cuts for brasato

What you want for a good brasato—or any pot roast—is one of the tougher cuts of meat with plenty of fat and connective tissue that will break down during the long, slow braising process, enriching the meat as it cooks. These generally correspond to cuts from the neck, shoulder or rear of the cow. Comparing cuts of meat across cuisines is a confusing business, but many Italian recipes for brasato call for scamone (rump roast), tenerone (a cut from the neck) or capello di prete or priest’s hat (roughly corresponding to part of what we call the chuck).

As I’ve noted before, I particularly like chuck for pot roasting. Although it does not produce a very pretty roast, with its ample marbling, chuck stays moist and juicy without larding. Among the other cuts commonly used for pot roasting here in the US, the bottom round is another good cut. And for today’s post, I used the eye round which makes a neat presentation when sliced. It is fairly lean so benefits from marinating and larding. Personally, I find the top and center round too lean for pot roasting, but again, marinating and larding helps them stay moist.

Speaking of larding, the technique here is pretty basic, aimed at the home cook without fancy skills or special equipment. But if you want to attempt a more professional larding job, check out our past on stracotto all fiorentina, where you lard pancetta and carrot the whole length of the roast with a larding needle.

Choosing mushrooms for the garnish

As for the mushrooms, porcini would be the classic choice in Italy, of course. Where I live I can’t find fresh porcini for love or money, so I turn to other varieties like Baby Bellas and use the soaking liquid from the dried porcini to infuse them with their musky flavor. (An old trick I learned years ago, so long ago in fact that I can’t remember where, but it does work. ) But otherwise just about any varietal of mushroom that you like and can find would do quite fine.

Making Brasato Ahead

If time allows, the brasato will be even better served the next day. Let it rest in its braising liquid, then gently reheat it when you’re ready to eat. Meanwhile, prepare the mushroom garnish and proceed with the last two steps in the recipe.

Another particularly tasty (if not very photogenic) way to make the dish ahead, or to enjoy leftover sliced brasato: Lay slices of the meat on a baking dish, cover the slice with the mushroom garnish, then cover it all with the sauce. Place the baking dish in a hot oven (200C/400F) for 10-15 minutes, until the meat is heated through and the sauce simmering. Serve right away.

Variations

The mushroom garnish is optional. You can simply use the dried porcini, adding their soaking liquid to the pot, and you’ll get a lovely mushroom flavor. And if you’re lucky enough to have fresh porcini on hand, you can do without the dried. Just add sliced porcini to the pot say about 30 minutes before you’re done.

The same technique can be also used to make a plain brasato. Just omit the dried porcini and, of course, the mushroom garnish. Add some sautéed or braised baby onions—or sliced yellow onions— towards the end instead of the mushroom garnish and you’ll have a very nice brasato con le cipolle.

If marinading your roast, place it in a bowl or container with the marinade ingredients and enough red wine to just cover. Leave overnight (and up to 24 hours) in the fridge. Turn the roast over once or twice as it marinates. Take the beef out of the fridge about an hour before you want to cook so it returns to room temperature. Pat dry.

Larding the Roast

If using a lean cut like eye round, it's not a bad idea to lard the roast. Here's an easy, 'homestyle' way to do it: Make slits all over the roast with a small parting knife and, with your fingers, insert small bits of pancetta into the slits. (See Notes for the professional method.)

Browning the Roast

Make a battuto by finely mincing the onion, carrot and celery together, either with a sharp knife or mezzaluna on a cutting board, or in a food processor, until the mixture has almost turned into a paste.

Melt a good knob of butter, along with a drizzle of vegetable oil, in a Dutch oven large enough to hold the roast, then add the battuto and gently sweat all the ingredients, with a pinch of salt, until they are very soft. Take care not to brown the aromatic vegetables—a few drops of water will help them prevent browning and help soften them as well.

Raise the heat and add the roast, browning it on all sides, again taking care not to burn the aromatics. Pour a ladleful of red wine (or the strained marinade if you've done that) over the roast and let it simmer, turning the roast now and then.

Braising the Roast

When the wine is almost evaporated, add the broth or water, along with the soaked mushrooms. (If you're not making the mushroom garnish, you can add some or all of the soaking liquid, strained of any grit, as well.) Cover and let the roast braise over low heat until tender. (Times can vary, but 2-3 hours should be enough, although some recipes call for 4-6 hours of braising.) Adjust the heat so that the braising liquid simmers gently. Add more liquid (broth, water or mushroom water) if things get too dry.

Making the mushroom garnish

While the roast is braising, cut the fresh mushrooms into slices or quarters. Sauté them briskly in a good knob of butter and a drizzle of vegetable oil. They will exude their juices at first, once they have evaporated, you will hear them begin to sizzle. At that point, they will begin to brown. If you are using rather bland mushrooms, you can add some or all of the soaking liquid from the dried porcini to the mushrooms, just as they begin to sizzle, and let it evaporate.

Making the Sauce

When the beef is tender, remove it from the pot and let it rest for a few minutes. Meanwhile, check the braising liquid, which you will use as your sauce. It should be dark and intensely flavored, abundant but not too thin. Boil it down if it's too thin, and add water if need be to thin it out. The battuto should have completely melted into the sauce; if not, you can purée the sauce with a hand blender. If you're using the mushroom garnish, you can add it to the sauce if you like and let it simmer for a few minutes.

Serving the Roast

Slice the roast on a serving platter and add the mushroom garnish all around it. Nap with some of the sauce. Place the rest of the sauce in a sauce boat for those who want more. Brasato is wonderful accompanied by mashed potatoes or soft polenta.

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]]>Yes, autumn is well and truly here. There’s a definitely chill in the air, the leaves are turning color, pumpkins have been placed on doorsteps, and logs are piled high on back porches, ready for the fire. I don’t know about you, but when the temperatures drop, I start to hanker for the heartier foods, none more than the warming soups of central Italy. Some of these rustic soups, especially the Tuscan ones like ribollita, laden with bread and beans and vegetables, have become world famous. Here on this site we’ve also featured some lesser known soups like farinata, made with Tuscan kale, as well as well known pasta and legume combinations like pasta e fagioli, pasta e ceci and pasta e piselli.

Today I want to present another soup in this category, one you may not heard of. Zuppa di cicerchia—said to be originally from Umbria but found in Tuscany, Le Marche, northern Lazio and Puglia, too—is made with the Lathyrus sativus, a nearly forgotten ancient pulse which goes by cicherchia in Italian and various names in English, most commonly the unappetizing “chickling vetch” or the ever so slightly more appealing “grass pea”.

The technique for making the soup will be familiar to anyone who knows Italian cooking. After soaking the cicerchie overnight and simmering them until tender, you make a flavor base of tomatoes simmered in gently sautéed aromatics, then add the cicerchie soak up the flavors, then add some of the cooking liquid (or broth) and let everything simmer for a good 15 minutes or so, until the flavors have entirely melded. With a few mashed cicherchie to thicken the soup and a drizzle of olive oil to enrich it, dinner is served. Like so much good Italian cooking, it’s utterly simple, and utterly satisfying.

Ingredients

Serves 4-6

For the initial simmering:

250g (8 oz) dried cicerhie

A clove or two of garlic, left whole

A bay leaf

Salt

For the soup:

1-2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

A sprig of rosemary (and a few sage leaves if you like)

200-250g (7-8 oz) canned tomatoes, finely chopped

Salt and pepper

Olive oil

For finishing the soup:

Rounds of toasted bread

Olive oil

Directions

Soak the cicerchie overnight. Drain and put them in a large pot with water to cover, together with a pinch of salt and a bay leaf. Simmer until tender. (Times will vary. see Notes)

Meanwhile, in a heavy saucepan, Dutch oven or terra-cotta pot, gently sauté the garlic and rosemary (and sage leaves if you’re using them) for a minute or two, until the garlic is just golden. Then add the chopped tomato and let it simmer for about 5 minutes, until it has thickened slightly. Remove the garlic and herbs.

When the circerchie are tender, drain them and add them to the pot, mixing well. Let them simmer for a few minutes to soak up the flavor of the tomato base. Then add a ladleful or so of the pot liquor, enough to cover, season generously with salt and pepper, and continue simmering for another 10-15 minutes or so, stirring from time to time. Just before serving, taste and adjust for seasoning.

If you like a thicker soup—and I do— crush some of the cicerchie against the side of the pot with a wooden spoon. Conversely, add more pot liquor if things get too thick for your taste.

Serve hot, drizzled if you like with some best-quality olive oil and some rounds of good crusty bread, toasted or (even better in my book) fried in olive oil.

Notes on zuppa di cicerchie

This is a simple recipe, obviously, with finding and simmering the cicerchie really the only tricky bit. I’ve never seen “grass peas” in any store in my area, but cicerchie imported from Umbria are available online.

As mentioned, the cooking time for cicerchie can vary a lot. Traditional recipes tell you to soak them 24 hours, then cook them for two hours. The package of the brand I bought (pictured below)called for an overnight soak and an hour and a half’s simmering. In fact, I got away with just over an hour. If you have one, cicherchie would be a perfect candidate for the pressure cooker. 15-20 minutes at high pressure, followed by a quick release should work well. And if you have a fancy electric pressure cooker like the Instant Pot, or the Breville Fast-Slow Cooker I have at home, use the “bean” setting. Just set it and forget it: the cooker automatically comes up to pressure, cooks, then releases at the press of a button. Magic…!

Variations

There’s a good deal of variation in the tomato base among recipes. Some use a classic soffritto of onion, carrot and celery instead of (or in addition to) garlic. Some recommend minced garlic and parsley. If you’re a carnivore, you may like the chopped pancetta or guanciale some recipes call for. Many recipes go lighter on the tomato than this one, in some cases rendering the dish practicallyin biancoalthough I’ve seen none totally devoid of tomato.

Broth can substitute for the cooking liquor for a meatier flavor. In some recipes, fennel fronds are added to the soup or to the cicerchie as they boil. Others call for mentuccia, a mint native to central Italy. (Wonderful with artichokes by the way.) If you want a even thicker soup, purée a third or more of the cicerhie. (A hand blender applied directly to the pot comes in handy here.)

Finally, for a starch, some recipes have you add pasta, as if you were making a pasta e ceci. Some add diced potato. In Tuscany they make a soup of cicerchie with farro.

The Story of the Cicerchia

The cicerchia is a kind of primitive chickpea, which it vaguely resembles, although it has a rather earthier taste. Said to have originated in prehistoric times in the Balkans, it was quite popular in Italy in the Middle Ages. The hearty, drought-resistant plant was a source of badly needed nutrition in times of famine. After falling out of favor in modern times due to the health risks—excess consumption can lead to lathyrism—the cicerchia has recently seen a revival in interest, most commonly for soups like this one or paired with pasta. In Abruzzo, they ground dried cicherchie to make a kind of polenta called fracchiata.

Italy is not the only country that enjoys this unusual pulse. It is eaten in Spain, where grass pea flour is used to make a kind of savory porridge called gachas manchegas. The grass pea is particularly popular in south west Asia and the eastern Horn of Africa, where it is cultivated for both human and livestock consumption. In Ethiopia and Eritrea, grass peas are eaten boiled or the flour used to make a flatbread bread known as ‘kitta’. And in India they are made into a kind of dahl or the flour used to make roti.

Soak the circerchie overnight. Drain and put them in a large pot with water to cover, together with a pinch of salt and a bay leaf. Simmer until tender. (Times will vary; traditional recipes say 2 hours, but the ones I used were tender in a little over an hour.)

In a heavy saucepan, Dutch oven or terra-cotta pot, gently sauté the garlic and rosemary (and sage leaves if you're using them) for a minute or two, until the garlic is just golden. Add the chopped tomato and let it simmer for about 5 minutes, until it has thickened slightly. Remove the garlic and herbs.

Drain the cooked circerhie and add it to the pot, mixing well. Let the cicerchie simmer for a few minutes to soak up the flavor of the tomato base. Add a ladleful or so of the pot liquor, enough to cover, season generously with salt and pepper, and continue simmering for another 10-15 minutes or so, stirring from time to time. Taste and adjust for seasoning.

If you like a thicker soup, crush some of the cicerchie against the side of the pot with a wooden spoon. Conversely, add more pot liquor if things get too thick for your taste.

Serve hot, drizzled if you like with some best-quality olive oil and some rounds of good crusty bread, toasted or (even better in my book) fried in olive oil.

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]]>Long time readers will know that, although Memorie di Angelina is a blog about the cuisine of Italy, around this time of year we feature an Italian-American dish. This year’s entry, Utica Greens, also known as “Green Morelli” or “Greens Morelle” after its inventor chef Joe Morelle, is perhaps the best known example of an intriguing style of Italian-American cooking that has developed in and around the town of Utica in Upstate New York.

As I’ve written about before, extravagance is one of the defining characteristics of much Italian-American cooking, especially if you compare it with the cooking of the Old Country, which values simplicity and balance. And Utica Greens shows how Italian cookery changed when it crossed the Atlantic. The original recipe for scarolain padella is a simple, some might even say austere affair: chicory sautéed in garlic, olive oil and perhaps a pinch of hot pepper. This New World counterpart adds prosciutto, hot cherry peppers, Parmesan cheese and a generous topping of seasoned breadcrumbs run under the broiler until golden brown. Even chicken broth can make its way into the dish. By layering flavor upon flavor, the original is transformed into something completely different, something an Italian would probably find, well, pretty un-Italian.

But that might in fact be part of its charm. As I’ve also written before, Italian-American dishes deserve to be judged on their own merits, not just by comparison with their continental counterparts. And certainly Utica Greens has inspired devotion among the locals, who debate passionately about its seemingly endless variations, and achieved real popularity in the wider world. So, without further ado, here’s my take on this Italian-American classic.

Ingredients

Serves 4-6

1 large or 2 small heads of escarole, about 1-1/2 lbs (750g)

2-3 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped

4 slices of prosciutto, chopped or cut into strips

4-6 pickled (or fresh) hot cherry peppers, sliced

1/2 cup (15g) grated Parmesan cheese

Salt and pepper

Olive oil

For the topping:

1 cup (100g) breadcrumbs

1/2 cup (15g) grated Parmesan cheese

Salt and pepper

Olive oil

Directions

Trim the escarole head of its core, separate and wash the leaves thoroughly. Cut them roughly. Blanch the escarole in salted water for 2-3 minutes or so.

Meanwhile, in a large skillet or everyday pan, sauté the prosciutto in olive oil until lightly browned, then add the garlic and let it sauté as well, just until it begins to give off its aroma. Drain the escarole (but not too well) and add it to the skillet along with the cherry peppers. Mix everything well and simmer for 10 minutes or so, or until the escarole is tender. The escarole should be moist but not watery. Add a bit of the cooking water if the escarole is drying out too soon, let it continue simmering if it’s still too wet.

While the escarole is simmering, fold together the topping ingredients in a bowl with enough olive oil to moisten the mixture, until it resembles wet sand. A minute or two before the escarole is done, add about half the topping mixture to the pan. Continue to simmer, stirring frequently to prevent the bottom from scorching, until the escarole is tender. Turn off the heat, and add the Parmesan cheese, mixing well until the cheese has completely melted into the greens.

Sprinkle the topping on the greens. Run the greens under a broiler until the top is golden brown.

Notes on Utica Greens

Let me admit right here that I’ve not tried this dish on its home turf, but I mean to one day. The Italian-American cooking in and around Utica has always intrigued me.

Generally speaking, Italian-American cookery is remarkably uniform, especially as compared with the highly local nature of continental Italian cooking. Take a classic Sunday Sauce, for example. It has Neapolitan roots, but it’s become a favorite among Italian-Americans no matter where in Italy their family is from and no matter where in the US they now live. So it’s rather remarkable to me that, in this corner Upstate New York, the Italian-American community has developed a local cuisine entirely their own, with the possible exception of Utica Greens, hardly known outside the area.

Unlike many iconic dishes, we know very specifically when and where Utica Greens got its start: in 1988, at Chesterfield Restaurant in Utica. And we also know who come up with it: Joe Morelle, the chef at Chesterfield’s. Not that he considered himself an inventor. In a New York Times interview, Morelle modestly said he had just done “something different” with the sautéed escarole he had grown up with. “You can’t really say invent. But I will take credit for popularizing them.”

In the 1980s, Morelle was a chef at another Utica restaurant, Grimaldi’s. A similar sautéed escarole dish was occasionally on special there. When he started at Chesterfield’s in 1988, he tweaked the dish and put it on the menu. It became a local hit. Joe and his dish went on to become famous nationally after that interview in the Times and an appearance on Andrew Zimmern’s Bizzare Foods TV show. Funny thing, Joe Morelle didn’t eat Greens Morelle. Turns out he didn’t like escarole (!) Sadly, Joe Morelle passed away just last year after a battle with lung cancer.

Variations

For a fancier presentation, you can transfer the cooked greens to a greased gratin dish. Then top them with the breadcrumb and cheese mixture. Run the dish under the broiler before bringing it to the table.

There are lots and lots of variations on Utica Greens, starting with the greens themselves. Escarole isn’t always easy to find. But you can adapt the dish to other greens like Swiss chard, kale, collard greens and chicory, to name a few. Some people boil the greens in chicken stock rather than salted water. Given all the flavors already going on, that seems to me like gilding the lily. Some people use pancetta instead of the prosciutto, which sounds to me like an improvement. And some use pecorino rather than Parmesan, which doesn’t.

You can also use fresh hot cherry peppers instead of the pickled variety. I understand that the locals almost always make Utica Greens with the pickled kind. Indeed, they say that no ingredient characterizes Upstate Italian-American cookery better than pickled hot cherry peppers. But however inauthentic it might be, fresh hot pepper appeals to me, and brings the dish a bit closer to its Old World origins. The pickled peppers add an acidity to the greens I personally found a bit jarring. (No pun intended…) And yet, you’ll find recipes that tell you to add some of the brine for even more acidity. Different strokes, as they say…

Utica Greens are traditionally served as an appetizer. But if you’re really hungry, you can use Italian sausages, cut into short lengths, instead of the prosciutto. You can also add boiled potatoes or boiled beans along with the greens. That turn your greens into a hearty one-dish meal.

Trim the escarole head of its core, separate and wash the leaves thoroughly. Cut them roughly. Blanch the escarole in salted water for 2-3 minutes or so.

Meanwhile, in a large skillet or everyday pan, sauté the prosciutto in olive oil until lightly browned, then add the garlic and let it sauté as well, just until it begins to give off its aroma. Drain the escarole (but not too well) and add it to the skillet along with the cherry peppers. Mix everything well and simmer for 10 minutes or so, or until the escarole is tender. The escarole should be moist but not watery. Add a bit of the cooking water if the escarole is drying out too soon, let it continue simmering if it's still too wet.

While the escarole is simmering, fold together the topping ingredients in a bowl with enough olive oil to moisten the mixture, until it resembles wet sand. A minute or two before the escarole is done, add about half the topping mixture to the pan. Continue to simmer, stirring frequently to prevent the bottom from scorching, until the escarole is tender. Turn off the heat, and add the Parmesan cheese, mixing well until the cheese has completely melted into the greens.

Sprinkle the topping on the greens. Run the greens under a broiler until the top is golden brown.

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]]>When you think of Sicily, what do you think of? When it comes to food, I’m sure swordfish is near the top of most everyone’s list. There’s no fish is more closely associated with the island, fished there widely since ancient times in places like the Strait of Messina. The local cuisine abounds with swordfish dishes, simply grilled and dressed with the famous salmoriglio sauce or with pasta.

But even in Sicily, I’ve found out, swordfish is an expensive treat, its retail price more or less as high as it is here in the US, perhaps even a bit more. So it’s not surprising that the locals have found ways to make relatively small portions go a long way. Pasta is a typical way to stretch an expensive ingredient, but if you want a secondo or main course, these involtini di pesce spada or Swordfish Rolls, are a great option. Thin slices of swordfish are topped with a savory breadcrumb filling, rolled up and then either baked or grilled.

These swordfish rolls are a really quick and easy dish, too, that you can get on the table in just a few minutes. The only slightly tricky part (outside Italy) is finding swordfish in thin slices rather than the usual “steaks”. An accommodating fishmonger is the best strategy, but if you don’t know one there are some work arounds we discuss in the Notes.

Directions

Lay out the swordfish slices on a cutting board or other flat surface, seasoning them generously on both sides.

In a bowl, mixed the breadcrumbs with the minced garlic, raisins, pine nuts, minced parsley salt and pepper. (NB: If the raisins are very large, you may want to give them a rough chop.) Mix in the olive oil, bit by bit, until the mixture is well moistened and takes on the texture of wet sand. Taste and adjust for seasoning. The mixture should be very savory.

Lay out the filling on top of the swordfish slices. then roll up the slices starting from the narrower end (see Notes).

You can cook your involtini di pesce spada one of two ways:

Oven baking: Lay the resulting swordfish rolls in a baking dish large enough to just fit them snugly, as pictured above. Season the top of the rolls with salt and any remaining filling mixture. If you’ve used up all the filling, sprinkle with more breadcrumbs. Drizzle everything with olive oil.

Set the baking dish in a hot (200C/400F) oven with the convection function turned on if it has it. Bake for 10-15 minutes, until the rolls are cooked through. The top should be nicely browned, but if not you can run the dish under the broiler for a minute or two.

Grilling: Place the rolls on skewers (if you want, inter splicing fresh bay leaves between them). Roll the skewers in the remaining filling (or additional breadcrumbs) and drizzle them on both sides with olive oil. Grill the skewers over hot coals for about 5 minutes per side.

In either case, let the dish cool for a few minutes before serving, with a wedge of lemon and possibly a simply dressed green salad.

Notes on Involtini di pesce spada (Swordfish Rolls)

As mentioned the only really tricky part of the dish, at least if you live outside Italy, is obtaining the swordfish slices. Most (or all?) swordfish in this country is sold in thick “steaks”. If your fishmonger is willing and able to slice the swordfish very thinly for you—no more than 3mm or 1/8 inch thick—that would be ideal. Once you get home, trim off the skin if need be, then pound the slices with a meat pounder. (If you don’t have one, the back the small skillet will do the job.) Pound the slices to thin them out even more, to about the thinness you’d expect from smoked salmon. But be gentle to avoid mashing the flesh.

Roll up the resulting slices to test their size. Chances are, they will be too big. The rolls should be about 8cm/3 inches long but will likely be something like twice that long. If so, cut them in half, then unroll them onto the cutting board and proceed to fill per the recipe.

If all you can buy are the steaks, you can always try freezing them semi-solid then slicing them yourself with a carving knife. It’s fussy work (and be careful with that knife!) but it works in a pinch.

Given the shape of swordfish fillets, your slices will likely have an almost triangular shape, with one end noticeably shorter than the other. You want to start rolling from that narrower end, so it winds up at the center of your roll. That will produce a much neater roll, one that won’t open up easily.

Variations

You’ll find quite a few variations in the filling ingredients for your involtini di pesce spada. Recipes calling for grated cheese, either caciocavallo, pecorino or Parmesan are common, a clear exception to the general rule in Italian cookery that cheese and fish don’t mix. Not all recipes call for the raisin and pine nuts combination, but rather capers and olives, a much more conventional pairing. A pinch of oregano or chopped basil or even mint can their way into the filling instead of the parsley. As does a bit of grated lemon or orange peel, or a bit of chopped almonds or pistachios.

Some recipes will have you add an egg to the filling, which of course makes it quite solid. And if you want an elegant presentation, you can trim the sides of each roll so they’re perfectly even, and add the trimmings, finely chopped, to the filling as well.

Finally, not all recipes have you top the rolls in breadcrumbs or extra filling. They are roasted or grilled “naked”, then napped with salmoriglio, kind of green sauce very commonly used to accompany fish in Sicily.

Lay out the swordfish slices on a cutting board or other flat surface, seasoning them generously on both sides.

In a bowl, mixed the breadcrumbs with the minced garlic, raisins, pine nuts, minced parsley salt and pepper. (NB: If the raisins are very large, you may want to give them a rough chop.) Mix in the olive oil, bit by bit, until the mixture is well moistened and takes on the texture of wet sand. Taste and adjust for seasoning. The mixture should be very savory.

Lay out the filling on top of the swordfish slices. then roll up the slices starting from the narrower end.

You can cook the swordfish rolls one of two ways:

Oven baking:

Lay the resulting rolls in a baking dish large enough to just fit them snugly, as pictured above. Season the top of the rolls with salt and any remaining filling mixture. If you've used up all the filling, sprinkle with more breadcrumbs. Drizzle everything with olive oil.

Set the baking dish in a hot (200C/400F) oven with the convection function turned on if it has it. Bake for 10-15 minutes, until the rolls are cooked through. The top should be nicely browned, but if not you can run the dish under the broiler for a minute or two.

Grilling:

Place the rolls on skewers (if you want, inter splicing fresh bay leaves between them). Roll the skewers in the remaining filling (or additional breadcrumbs) and drizzle them on both sides with olive oil. Grill the skewers over hot coals for about 5 minutes per side.

In either case, let the dish cool for a few minutes before serving, with a wedge of lemon and possibly a simply dressed green salad.

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]]>These Sicilian chickpea fritters, known as panelle in Italian, are often associated with Sicily’s capital city Palermo, where you can buy them sandwiched inside a sesame seed bun at street-side snack bars. But if you can’t get to Palermo any time soon, no worries. Panelle are pretty easy to make at home. You prepare a cooked batter very much like polenta only much faster. You spread out the batter very thin on a flat surface and allow it to cool and firm up, before cutting it into little rectangles or squares and deep frying them until golden brown.

Panelle might bring to mind Liguria’s farinata, a baked flatbread also made with a chickpea batter. But while both have a similarly delicious, mildly nutty flavor, if you ask me, the crispiness you get by frying them gives panelle a definite leg up. They’re a bit like potato chips, only thicker and tastier.

Served on their own, panelle are a wonderful treat to nibble on with wine or cocktails before a meal or as a snack. But be careful not to spoil your appetite… These little fellas are really addictive!

Ingredients

Makes about 25 panelle

250g (1/2 lb) chickpea aka garbanzo flour

750ml (3 cups) water

Salt

Olive oil

Oil for deep frying

Optional ingredients:

A few sprigs of parsley or fennel fronds, finely minced

Freshly ground pepper

Lemon wedges

Directions

Pour the water into a large saucepan with a generous pinch of salt. Whisk in the flour vigorously until it is well incorporated, to form a rather thin batter.

Turn on the heat and bring the batter to a simmer, whisking all the while to prevent lumping. As soon as it comes up to temperature, it will thicken very quickly. Once it is quite dense, take it off the heat. Mix in the minced parsley and ground black pepper if using.

While it is still hot, transfer the cooked batter to a flat, non-pourous surface (a cookie sheet works well) which you have greased well with olive oil. Using a flat spatula you’ve moistened with water, spread the batter out very thin, ideally about 3mm (1/8 in) if you can manage it. Let the batter cool completely; it will firm up as it cools. Cut into small squares or rectangles about 5cm (2 in) and gingerly lift the pieces off the surface with the spatula.

Deep fry the pieces in hot (190C/375F) oil until they are golden brown, working in batches if need be to avoid crowding. They should puff up a bit as they fry. Drain them on paper towels as they are done.

Serve your panelle right away, sprinkled with salt. If you like, have some lemon wedges on the side for those who like their panelle sprinkled with some lemon juice.

Notes on Panelle

In Palermo, panelle are often sold as street food, wedged in a sesame seed bun. My experience with panelle was in restaurants in western Sicily, served, sans bun, as an antipasto. And while parsley and pepper show up in many recipes, the ones I tried were plain—but still delicious!

Chickpea flour, also known as garbanzo bean flour, is available at better supermarkets these days. (In the US, Whole Foods carries it.) And if you can’t find it in your local stores, it is also available online.

An alternative technique for forming your panelle is to pour the cooked batter into a rectangular mold (the kind you might use for sandwich bread) to cool. You then thinly slice the solidified batter with a moistened thin-bladed knife before deep frying. This method avoids the fuss of spreading out the panelle batter onto a flat surface, and allows you to get the panelle as thin as you like. But it does take rather longer for the batter to cool, about 30-45 minutes.

It’s always a good idea to avoid crowding the pan whenever you’re frying, but it’s especially important with panelle. Besides turning out greasy, the little squares or rectangles won’t puff up as they should. So make sure they have plenty of room to swim around in the oil.

Making panelle ahead

You can make panelle ahead up to the point of frying. But they really need to be fried at the last moment and eaten right away to be at their best. Cold panelle are edible, but just barely. They tend to get rubbery and taste rather ‘flat’. Reheated panelle are very much second-best, but if you give them a quick dip in hot oil rather than, say, warming them in a microwave, they can be acceptable. And if you have an oven with an “air fry” or convection function, that might also work.

Baking panelle

You can also make panelle in the oven if you’re not keen on deep frying. You put the greased baking sheet on which you have spread the chickpea batter, brushed on top with olive oil, in a hot oven with the broiler pre-heated to 200C/400F. Let the top get nice and golden brown, then take it out of the oven and cut it into squares or rectangles. Not quite as good as fried, if you ask me, but quite good nonetheless.

La testa del moro

You may have noticed the charming ceramic figurine in the corner of this week’s photo. In Sicily, they call it la testa del Moro, or the Moor’s head. We all received one of these as a favor at the wedding I mentioned in the last post. And there’s quite the story behind them!

You see, Sicily was once ruled by the Moors. In those days a Moorish prince arrived in Palermo and seduced a beautiful young local maiden. They fell in love, and for a while it seemed they would live happily ever after. But suddenly the young prince disappeared. The maiden found out that he had returned to his homeland. She followed him there, only to find that he was already married with kids. One night while he was sleeping, she got her revenge: She cut off his head and secreted it back to Palermo to use as a vase for planting basil—the plant of love and passion—which she proudly displayed on her balcony.

Quite a story to bring to mind at a wedding! I guess it’s a good way to remind the groom to stay faithful..

Pour the water into a large saucepan with a generous pinch of salt. Whisk in the flour vigorously until it is well incorporated, to form a rather thin batter.

Turn on the heat and bring the batter to a simmer, whisking all the while to prevent lumping. As soon as it comes up to temperature, it will thicken very quickly. Once it is quite dense, take it off the heat. Mix in the minced parsley and ground black pepper if using.

While it is still hot, transfer the cooked batter to a flat, non-pourous surface (a cookie sheet, for example) which you have greased well with some olive oil. Using a flat spatula, spread the batter out very thin, about 3mm (1/8 in). Let the batter cool completely; it will solidify as it cools. Cut the batter into small squares or rectangles about 5cm (2 in) and gingerly lift the pieces off the surface with the spatula.

Deep fry the pieces in hot (190C/375F) oil until they are golden brown, working in batches if need be to avoid crowding. They should puff up a bit as they fry. Drain them on paper towels as they are done.

Serve your panelle right away, sprinkled with salt. If you like, have some lemon wedges on the side for those who like their panelle sprinkled with some lemon juice.

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]]>On my recent trip to western Sicily for a family wedding, I tasted many delicious dishes, but none was more distinctive than the couscous di pesce, also known as couscous alla trapanese after the city and province of Trapani in western Sicily where it’s from. The fact that Sicilians eat couscous is a legacy of the Moorish rule over the island in the early Middle Ages. But while in the Maghreb couscous is typically eaten with lamb and vegetables, in Trapani it is accompanied by a spicy fish soup made with the bountiful local seafood.

I had couscous di pesce twice during the trip, once at a dockside restaurant in Castellamare del Golfo and once at a farewell dinner for the happy couple at the home of our hosts on the last night of the trip. On that second occasion zio Piero—who had prepared the dish entirely from scratch—was kind enough to explain to me how he made his version of this iconic local dish.

This streamlined version of Piero’s recipe essentially cuts out the most laborious and time-consuming part of the process—making and steaming the couscous—by using pre-cooked couscous. You can put this version on your table in less than an hour, instead of the five or more it takes to make the dish entirely from scratch. Is pre-cooked couscous as good as the homemade version? Not quite, but it comes surprisingly close. And the soul of the dish— the fish soup—is as exquisite as ever.

Directions

Step 1: Prepare the fish soup

In a pot large enough to contain all your seafood comfortably, sauté the onion, carrot, celery, parsley, garlic and red pepper flakes in abundant olive oil over low heart until quite soft. Add a pinch of salt as you sauté, taking care not to let anything brown.

Add the tomatoes to the pot and let them reduce for a few minutes into a saucy consistency.

Lay on the fish and other seafood, then add enough water to cover the seafood, along with the bay leaf and saffron if using. Simmer, uncovered, for a good 20-30 minutes, until the seafood is cooked through and broth is very flavorful. Taste and adjust for salt.

Remove the fish and other seafood from the pot. Using a paring or boning knife, remove the skin and filet the fish. Cut the filets, if need be, into serving-size pieces. Place the fish filets and shellfish in a bowl and cover to keep warm. Discard the fish heads, skin and bones.

Pour the remaining broth through a fine sieve, pressing out the liquid from the solids, and return it to the pot, along with the seafood.

Step 2: Make the couscous:

If you are using pre-cooked couscous, you should follow the measurements and instructions on the package, but using the fish broth or a 50/50 combination of broth and water instead of water. Generally speaking, the instructions will tell you to add pre-cooked couscous to hot liquid and allowed to steam off heat.

Bring the required amount of liquid to a boil, add the precooked couscous, together with the chopped almonds and spices, give it all a good stir and cover. Let the couscous stand for a good 5 minutes, or until the broth is fully absorbed and the couscous tender. Once the couscous is cooked, fluff it with a fork.

Step 3: Assemble and serve:

When you are ready to serve, bring the broth back to the barest simmer to reheat the seafood.

For a family style presentation, serve the couscous in a large serving bowl, perhaps topped with more chopped almonds and a few pieces of seafood, with the fish soup in a separate soup terrine. Each diner can take a portion of couscous, and top it with the seafood and a good ladleful of the borth, to their taste. For a fancier presentation, you can plate individual servings as pictured here.

Notes on Couscous di pesce

Ideally, the fish you use for a couscous di pesce will be whole fish with bones and head, which give more taste to the broth. The heads and bones are then removed as indicated above. This is probably the trickiest part of the whole recipe, as you need to gingerly scrape off the skin without damaging the flesh—it should actually come off quite easily—and then lift the fillets underneath off the bone, again ideally without damaging the flesh. It’s not all that difficult, but it does take some time and care. I think it’s well worth the effort.

Even so, whole fish can be a challenge to find in some US markets, where fish is increasingly sold in pre-cut fillets. If that’s all you can find, do try to beg off a fish head or two from your fish monger. Add them to the pot to simmer along with the fish, then discard them. They will lend the broth a lot of extra flavor.

The measurements in this recipe are based on Piero’s description during dinner but involving a fair amount of semi-educated guesswork on my part. As is usually the case for iconic dishes like this one, recipes are all over the map. The amount of fish can be varied according to tastes and your appetites; some recipes call for double the seafood called for here, others less. Ditto for the amount of tomato, which varies wildly from recipe to recipe, with some quite ‘red’ and others calling for just a hint of hint of tomato. Some recipes call for passata di pomodoro as here, others for tomato concentrate. Piero said he uses chopped tomatoes, fresh in the summer and canned in the off season.

Tips from zio Piero

Zio Piero makes his couscous by hand, steaming it for a good two hours. While the couscous is steaming, he prepares the fish soup. He then transfers the steamed couscous to a large terracotta bowl, called a mafaràdda, mixing the steamed couscous with a generous portion of the fish broth. He lets the couscous rest, covered, for a hour, to absorb the broth, then repeats the process twice more, producing a very flavorful, deep red couscous, as pictured below. The whole process, Piero told me, takes five hours. It’s definitely a labor of love!

Apologies for the quality of the cellphone photo, but trust me, the couscous was red..!

Making the Fish Soup

Piero’s fish soup included a long list of local fishes that I neglected to jot down. But I do remember it included both grouper (cernia) and rockfish (scorfano). The soup was mostly fish, but most recipes for couscous di pesce include all sorts of seafood including squid, shrimp and mussels. Langoustines like the ones that topped Piero’s mound of couscous would be lovely, too, if you can find them. In any event, as with most fish soups, you can use what the fishmonger has on offer that day. I used branzino, as my fishmonger didn’t have grouper or rockfish that day. Whatever fish you use should be firm-fleshed, so it doesn’t fall apart in the cooking. This is especially important because, as you may have noticed, the cooking time for the soup is fairly long.

As a result, the fish itself turns out a bit overcooked, at least to my taste, but as Piero pointed out, the real point is enriching the broth to flavor the couscous. The fish itself is secondary. But if you want better textured seafood at the cost of a slightly less tasty broth, you can add the fish in phases, starting with the seafood that takes the longest—like the squid—then the whole fish, perhaps about 10 minutes later, and then the most delicate items like the shrimp about 5 minutes before the soup is done, leaving the mollusks like mussels to the very end, cooking them for only the minute or two it takes for them to open.

Making Couscous by Hand

Piero gave me only a fleeting description of how he made the couscous itself. A chef can’t reveal all his secrets, after all! But he did mention that he formed the couscous by rubbing the dough with both hands, as if he were washing them, not by working it against the bottom of a bowl or other surface as many people do. But generally speaking, homemade couscous involves a process call l’incocciàta in Sicilian. You sprinkle water on coarsely ground semolina flour (semola) and work it into the flour with your hands in a circular motion, sprinkling more water as needed until small grains are formed. You then drizzle the grains with olive oil to keep them separate, along with other flavorings. (NB: In some recipes, the order is reversed, with the oil added first, then the water.) This video (in Italian) demonstrates the technique rather well, I think.

Castellammare del Golfo where I first tried the dish

Using Packaged Uncooked Couscous

There’s a middle ground between pre-cooked couscous and making you own by hand: packaged but uncooked couscous, often imported from Morocco or another of the Maghreb countries. As for pre-cooked couscous, should you once again follow the instructions. But generally speaking, this kind of couscous will require steaming over salted water, after which, for this recipe, you transfer the steamed couscous to a large bowl, then moisten it with a few ladlefuls of the fish broth. You then let the seasoned couscous stand for 30 minutes or more, to allow the flavors to meld.

In a pot large enough to contain all your seafood comfortably, sauté the onion, carrot, celery, parsley, garlic and red pepper flakes in abundant olive oil over low heart until quite soft. Add a pinch of salt as you sauté, taking care not to let anything brown.

Add the tomatoes to the pot and let them reduce for a few minutes into a saucy consistency.

Lay on the fish and other seafood, then add enough water to cover the seafood, along with the bay leaf and saffron if using. Simmer, uncovered, for a good 20-30 minutes, until the seafood is cooked through and broth is very flavorful. Taste and adjust for salt.

Remove the fish and other seafood from the pot. Using a paring or boning knife, remove the skin and filet the fish. Cut the filets, if need be, into serving-size pieces. Place the fish filets and shellfish in a bowl and cover to keep warm. Discard the fish heads, skin and bones.

Pour the remaining broth through a fine sieve, pressing out the liquid from the solids, and return it to the pot, along with the seafood.

Step 2: Make the couscous:

If you are using pre-cooked couscous, you should follow the measurements and instructions on the package, but using the fish broth or a 50/50 combination of broth and water instead of water. Generally speaking, the instructions will tell you to add pre-cooked couscous to hot liquid and allowed to steam off heat.

Bring the required amount of liquid to a boil, add the precooked couscous, together with the chopped almonds and spices, give it all a good stir and cover. Let the couscous stand for a good 5 minutes, or until the broth is fully absorbed and the couscous tender. Once the couscous is cooked, fluff it with a fork.

Step 3: Assemble and serve:

When you are ready to serve, bring the broth back to the barest simmer to reheat the seafood.

For a family style presentation, serve the couscous in a large serving bowl, perhaps topped with more chopped almonds and a few pieces of seafood, with the fish soup in a separate soup terrine. Each diner can take a portion of couscous, and top it with the seafood and a good ladleful of the borth, to their taste. For a fancier presentation, you can plate individual servings as pictured here.